


Declaration

by smartalli



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Fireworks, Fourth of July, Getting Together, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, The Hamptons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 10:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11416524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartalli/pseuds/smartalli
Summary: Harvey says softly, “God, you’re…” He bites off the end of his words, turns away a moment."Frustrating?""Oblivious."





	Declaration

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr as [crazyassmurdererwall](http://crazyassmurdererwall.tumblr.com). This fic was originally posted there.

+

Mike’s waiting outside his building when Harvey pulls up in a black vintage Mustang. He huffs a soft laugh, walks over and gets in. Happy Fourth of July.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Harvey eyes him a long minute before he shifts his eyes forward and puts the car in gear, pointing them toward the Hamptons and Demetrius Miller’s party, a party Mike isn’t the least bit interested in attending, despite the fact that it’s a legendary, over the top affair with a very exclusive guest list.

Jay Gatsby has nothing on Demetrius Miller.

It pays to be a high priced lawyer sometimes. Or maybe it just pays to know Harvey. He could have chosen anyone to go with him. He could have brought a date. He knows Donna had already planned her outfit, she was so sure he was going to take her. But Harvey had picked him. A reward, maybe, for Mike’s work on their most recent case. So he wasn’t going to say no. Thanks but no thanks. Even if he isn’t the slightest bit interested in going right now.

It’s just…you know…not a great day for him.

The top is down and Mike closes his eyes behind his sunglasses and leans his head back and lets the wind whip his hair. Mike would have expected Harvey to be playing jazz, but instead there’s classic rock and pop playing from the speakers, some blues. It’s an American summer road trip playlist. Creedence comes on and Mike loses himself in the music, in the sounds of the highway, in the wind striking his face, in the feel of a quiet Harvey, sitting in the seat next to him, letting him be.

Eventually Mike’s eyes flicker open and he sits up a little straighter, and he looks over to find Harvey throwing a quick glance his way. 

“Doing better?”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

Mike waits for him to say something more but he doesn’t, eyes focused on the road in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel, collar of his shirt fluttering against the wind even as his perfectly coiffed hair is immovable. He devastates Mike a little bit. He gives Mike a stomach ache.

“Harvey, why did you bring me? You could have brought anyone. Donna was dying to go.”

“Are you fishing for a compliment or something?”

“Harvey-”

“If I wanted to bring someone else, I would have asked them. I had no interest in bringing Donna. I wanted to bring you.”

It was a gift, and regardless of how Mike feels today, he should be more gracious about it. Besides, he’s on the road with Harvey, out of the office. It’s a good place to be.

There’s a veritable  _army_  of valets waiting for them when they pull up to Demetrius Miller’s mansion, not that Mike expected anything less. There’s laughter and music coming from inside, and when Harvey and Mike climb up the steps and knock at the front door Mike takes a moment and really looks at Harvey and almost laughs in a sort of achy disbelief. They coordinate in their navy blue and crisp white. They look like they could be a couple.

“I broke up with Rachel. This morning. I’m not marrying her.”

Harvey’s head snaps to look at him and his mouth opens but he doesn’t get a chance to respond because the massive door in front of them swings open and there’s Demetrius, standing on the other side, a brilliant smile on his beautiful face. 

“Harvey!” His eyes slide over to Mike, and then slide right on down and back up, his smile gaining an extra little brightness. “And who’s this?”

“This is Mike.”

“ _Mike.”_

Demetrius says his name with a slow, thick kind of sweetness, rolls it off his tongue.

“I’m so glad you could come.”

Mike feels pinned down by his smile.

“Thanks for the invite.”

Demetrius looks over at Harvey again, finally, and looks at him a moment before his smile changes, brightens, and he laughs. “Glad to have you. Come in.”

He sweeps them in, brings them over to a group of people, introduces them. At one point Harvey gets pulled away by someone he knows and Mike wanders over to one of the bartenders, gets one of the special drinks Demetrius had made for the party - a  _Demetrius_ , of course - and almost spits it out.

It’s  _vile._

 _“_ How do you like my signature cocktail, Mike?”

Demetrius slips in next to him,  _close_ , and Mike resists the urge to back away out of instinct. 

“It’s, uh…” He trails off and Demetrius just blinks at him. He sighs and sets the mostly full glass back on the bar with an only slightly apologetic grimace. “Awful? Would be the word I’m searching for.”

Demetrius laughs boisterously and Mike does take a step back this time, in total shock.

“I know…isn’t it just  _disgusting_?” He turns to the bartender and orders a couple of drinks with a wave of the fingers and a smile. “Every year I make a absolutely atrocious drink and count how many people have the balls to tell me how bad it is.” He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s my little game, you see.”

“And how many have the guts to call you out on your pretension?”

His grin widens. “You’re  _delightful_.”

Mike blushes, looks down briefly.

“Never more than half a dozen. Just you so far today.” He takes the drinks from the bartender, hands one over to Mike. “Here…try this instead.”

It’s delicious - a little fruity, a little sweet, and just strong enough.

“Mike, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

Mike looks up from his drink, pauses. “You want to take me to dinner?”

“Have you ever been to Paris?”

“You want to take me to dinner…in  _Paris_?”

Mike looks over Demetrius’ shoulder and sees Harvey standing about halfway across the room, watching them, his face blank. Mike’s stomach clenches, and Harvey doesn’t look away.

“I do.” Mike’s eyes snap back to Demetrius. “But you’re not exactly available, are you sweetheart?”

Mike sputters and licks his lips. He can’t seem to get his words out, even though he knows Demetrius is right. He hasn’t been anything close to  _available_  for the last few years, even if he pretended otherwise. Even if he got so good at pretending it, that he almost married someone else. He broke her heart with his pretending -  _he broke Rachel’s heart_ \- and he can’t do that to someone again. It’s only his own heart he can afford to break.

“Too bad for me.” He leans forward, places a soft kiss on Mike’s cheek. “Enjoy my party. And make sure you stay for the fireworks. They’re just a few minutes away.”

Demetrius walks away and Mike takes his drink and slips outside past a few laughing couples and onto the beach behind the house. He pulls his shoes off and walks down a ways across the sand, his shoes dangling from his fingers. It’s warm, and the breeze off the water feels nice. He sits down in the sand, sips from his drink, and watches the sun slowly drop down beneath the horizon.

“You’re not marrying Rachel.”

He should have known Harvey would come find him eventually.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

It’s dark now, and Mike looks up at the shape of Harvey standing in front of him, looking down at him.

“Does it matter?”

“It  _matters_.”

“Why?”

“Because it does.”

Mike is so frustrated he could scream. How Mike feels, the choice he made, none of this is Harvey’s business. Regardless of the fact that Mike loves Harvey, that he broke it off with Rachel because he’s  _in love_  with Harvey and marrying her would be a positively  _shitty_  thing to do to her, none of this has anything to do with Harvey, really. Mike  _loves_  Harvey, and that’s no one’s business but his own.

So no, it doesn’t  _fucking matter_  why he did it. It just matters that he did, that he finally stood up and admitted something to himself he’s been holding in, that he finally did the right thing for the both of them.

He absolutely deserved the slap, too.

Harvey says softly, frustrated, “ _God_ , you’re…”

He bites off the end of his words, turns away a moment.

He almost laughs. Almost. Rachel had given him pretty much the exact same reaction.

“Frustrating?”

A ways away the sounds of the party grow as everyone crowds outside, drinks in hand, laughing and cheerful. And then the music starts up and from out over the water the first rocket shoots up and explodes in the sky to oohs and ahhs, showering the water with white sparks.

“Oblivious.”

“What?”

Behind Harvey’s head the fireworks explode in the sky, blue and yellow and green and red and white, one after the other after the other.

“The only thing I haven’t done is actually say it out loud.”

Mike feels like an idiot for repeating himself, but he does anyway. There’s nothing else he can think to say. “What?”

The fireworks send strings of light across Harvey’s face, and in them, Mike can see the shadow of a smile.

“I love you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have done half of what I’ve done for you.”

Mike stands. “Harvey, you-”

Harvey’s hands are soft but sure on his face and when he kisses Mike, he pours himself into it, into Mike.

When he pulls back Mike blinks at him, more than a little breathless.

“Is that an obvious enough declaration for you?” Mike takes a deep breath. He takes so long to speak, to respond at all, that Harvey says a soft, worried, “Mike?”

“I never thought that-” Mike shakes his head then surges forward and kisses Harvey. 

Harvey loves him. He  _loves_  him.

When he pulls back he says, “I love you.” He says it like he can’t say it quickly enough, or hard enough, or just  _enough._

The fireworks explode, and Harvey takes his hand and pulls him along the side of Demetrius’ house and toward the lot off to the side, full of cars, lit up just the slightest bit by the rows of lanterns edging the walkway. The pavement is warm on Mike’s bare feet, and the pop of the fireworks is making his blood sing. Harvey’s hand squeezes his and they weave through the lines of cars until they reach the Mustang. 

Harvey pulls him forward, sits him down on the warm black hood, leans forward and kisses him, deep and long. Mike spreads his legs and Harvey steps in between them, gets closer. Behind Harvey the music is starting to swell and the fireworks are popping, and when Harvey starts kissing along Mike’s jaw, Mike’s eyes fly open and he can see the line of valets a ways away, watching the fireworks, their backs to Harvey and Mike.

Harvey’s lips find Mike’s again and Mike’s eyes flutter closed again as Harvey’s hand reaches down and starts to massage him through his pants. Mike breaks away with a gasp and a small moan, and Harvey unzips Mike’s pants, pulls them down with Mike’s underwear with one strong yank. 

Mike grips at Harvey’s shirt, says, “Harvey, the valets.”

Harvey turns his head and looks, then turns back to Mike and, right before he sinks to his knees, says, “I guess you’ll have to be quiet.”

The moment Harvey takes Mike into his mouth, his body bows and falls back against the hood, and he shoves the side of his hand into his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. His legs are hooked over Harvey’s shoulders and his pants are somewhere down on the ground, abandoned, and if not for the fireworks in the sky, Mike would think he was seeing stars. He reaches a hand down and grabs at Harvey’s head, and feels himself breathing harder and harder and harder and harder and harder until finally his stomach muscles clench and his toes curl and he screams into the hand in his mouth.

The hand falls out of his mouth as he falls back completely against the hood, and his legs slip off of Harvey’s shoulder as Harvey stands, unzips, and pulls himself out of his pants. Mike lifts himself up on his elbows and scoots down the hood just a little, then reaches out an arm to wrap around Harvey’s back to get them closer together and reaches down with the other hand to grab a hold of Harvey. He leans up and kisses him and starts pulling and twisting, thumb brushing over the head on an upstroke, using a rhythm he knows always works for him, and swallows Harvey’s gasp with his mouth. Harvey pulls Mike’s shirt up over his chest and then braces his arms on either side of Mike, on the hood, and it occurs to Mike, as he increases the speed of his hand, as he deepens the kiss, that he’s almost completely naked, spread out over the hood of Harvey’s car while Harvey is almost completely clothed and at any moment, in a half a breath, one of the valets could turn and see everything. He feels himself twitch in interest, and he rubs gently at himself as he speeds up his hand on Harvey’s cock. Harvey’s hips are punching forward, and his breathing is getting faster and faster and Mike urges him on with a few breathy, quiet words, panted into Harvey’s mouth.

_Come on. Come on._

Harvey finally lets go with a groan that turns into a deep, deep kiss, and paints Mike’s chest, his belly, his cock with his cum. Mike sits up and Harvey follows, and they continue to kiss as Mike rubs at himself halfheartedly, as he rubs Harvey into his skin.

They finally pull back when the music swells and swells, when the sky is bright as firework after firework after firework explodes in a stunning display of color. 

“The big finish.”

“You ready to go home?”

Mike turns his attention away from the fireworks toward Harvey. “My shoes are still on the beach.”

Harvey laughs, tucks himself away, then rubs a spare drop of cum into the skin of Mike’s belly, just above his cock, and pulls Mike’s shirt down. “I’ll buy you ten pairs of shoes.”

“You’d better go get the keys to the car, then.”

Harvey walks away, toward the valets, and Mike pulls on his pants. When he looks up again, toward the house, he can see Demetrius, standing in the doorway, a drink in his hand. He lifts it toward Mike, then takes a long sip and turns, walks back into his house just as the last fireworks are fizzing in the sky above them. 

Happy Fucking Fourth of July.


End file.
